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Alice
July 9, 2023
Lighthouse Cove, Maine
I never thought I'd have to watch what I say in the house in Lighthouse Cove.
Well, not what I say, but definitely how loud I say them.
Or, in my case at the current moment, how loud I moan them as I grip the sheets in one hand and Jasper's hair in the other.
I'm gasping for air. Trying to remember where I am and what is actually happening.
But it's almost impossible with my legs wrapped around his shoulders and his face buried inside me.
And to think I almost denied myself of this.
Deprived myself of this seems like more of an accurate description when his tongue circles and slides and meets the rhythm of his fingers.
My grip on his hair tightens as he speeds his movements, my body jerking against his face in desperation, as his lips and tongue and teeth almost teach me a new language.
"You're going to wake the whole house," he laughs against my inner thigh, and I love the way he looks up at me from between my legs like he didn't just have me on the brink of insanity.
Again.
"Who?" I ask, slightly incoherently as his hands slide beneath my knees to pull me down roughly to the edge of the bed. I cry out when his tongue finds my center again, louder than when he had stopped us in the first place.
Because it's true. In my head, there's only the two of us.
He laughs but continues his teasing, his hand snaking up my body to find my breasts. Just like the fingers he slides inside me, his fingers on my nipples lure me into what feels like another time and place. I am aware of no one and nothing except for the way my body is hurling towards release.
And I can feel it happening fast.
Jasper is relentless. Doesn't change a thing as my hips writhe beneath him. He continues to lick and kiss and circle while his fingers curl and push and pull. I arch my back, shoulder blades rising off the bed, as the tether snaps and I'm weightless.
Suspended.
Falling.
Landing again without time to slow down.
"Jesus, Ali," Jasper groans as he brings me back to earth, my body riding shock waves as his mouth laps up my undoing. "I need to see it again."
And he does.
He rises from his knees from his spot on the floor as I'm rising on my elbows on the bed, and in one move, I'm stretched to fit him all the way inside me.
Now he's the loud one.
Every thrust is punctuated by his groan in my ear and he lifts my hips off the bed each time he enters me, my hands sliding down his back as I start to see stars again. Still shaking from his mouth from before, I feel myself pulse around him as I feel another wave barreling towards me, launching me into a million different places at once.
He slams into me a few more times before he grasps me by the waist and shudders against me with a strangled moan into the side of my neck, and I cling to him like he's the only one who can put me back together.
. . .
I'm not quite sure the exact time I slip outside of my room and come downstairs to the back porch.
It's earlier than I normally come outside in the morning, so early that the sun has yet to rise, yet it doesn't bother me that I'm sitting alone in the dark with just a knitted blanket and a cup of coffee.
I think some time alone right now is what I need.
My eyes settle on the occasional flashes of light from the boats on the ocean, from those people brave enough to start their day this early on the water, and I can't help but think I'm not so different from them at the moment.
Besides the obvious difference of land versus sea, both those boats on the water and me right now have no idea what lies ahead.
Smooth sailing? Rough waters? Misdirection?
The most glaring connection is how I see no hesitation, no holding back in fear of failing, on their part or mine.
Which is both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
I see us both letting go and just…letting something else take over.
Fate? Lust? Hope?
Whatever it is, I nudge my coffee cup in their general direction from my lounge on the porch, and wish them well on our journeys.
We're sure as hell going to need it.
Sighing, I bring my mug to my lips and take a small sip, letting it soothe the wrinkles of my worry as the minutes tick by. Caffeine is the last thing I need right now, as I can count on two hands the hours of sleep I've gotten in the last five days, but still it clears some of the cobwebs that keep me awake at this ungodly hour.
Besides waking up with Bree all those years ago when she was a baby, I can't remember the last time I willingly saw this hour on the clock. For years, it was either for feedings or diaper changes or monitoring Peter as he slept, watching his breath and his vitals as he slipped away from us. I never saw this hour because I wanted to. Because I chose to.
The last time I had spent all hours of the night in the arms of a man?
A man that was not my husband?
One other time.
It was some time in college when Peter and I were taking some time apart to find out who we were. It had been strange, and I remember waking up at some point in the night and feeling like the last few hours belonged to someone else. Not me.
He wasn't Peter.
And the man sleeping upstairs isn't Peter, either.
But there's a drastic difference between the kid in college and Jasper.
It's the reason I'm sitting here in the dark in the first place.
The kid in college, God, I can't even remember his name, was exactly that. Nothing of importance. Just a reminder of how Peter was the man I was supposed to be with, and how the break we had been on had only convinced me that we absolutely belonged together. Luckily, he had come to the same conclusion as well during our time apart, and we had reconnected and came out better and stronger than we were before.
We were engaged not long after that, and for a long time, everything was perfect. Sex was fun and satisfying and a predictable part of our marriage. Even when Bree came along, we made sure we never forgot how good we were together as husband and wife.
Not explosive, but then again, it didn't have to be. We were growing in careers, moving out of our apartment into our home, raising Bree – all before our life together came to a screeching halt.
Sex was comfortable.
And then in walks Jasper, and suddenly I'm careening towards a desire, a need, that I've never felt before. It's different than with Peter, and yes, it's supposed to be exactly that – different – but there's more to it than just being two separate men. I suppose it's because I'm the one who is different now. I'm the one who has changed.
Change is a scary concept, but maybe I'm out here this early in the morning because I realize that maybe it's not necessarily a bad thing. To change.
I'm not the same woman I was when Peter and I first had sex all those years ago when we were in high school. I've grown comfortable with myself and my body, and that part of me grew quiet and then dimmed completely as Peter's headaches had gotten worse. I thought that part of me had died when Peter had died, but I've discovered now, especially after the night I just had, that it absolutely had not. It was just sleeping for a while, waiting to be nudged back awake.
And fuck did I find a way to wake myself up again.
Gone are the days of familiar and predictable sex. While there is something beautiful in that level of comfort with a partner, sex can introduce a whole new world. It's hard for me to wrap my head around, which is most likely the reason why I'm out here now in the way too early morning. Even after the hours Jasper and I had just spent together in my bed, I'm way too wired to sleep. Too many thoughts running through my head for me to make any sense of.
What I do have now, and I exhale loudly and shake my head in utter disbelief, is an understanding of just how explosive two people can be.
My body tingles just thinking about the last few hours.
And not just from the sex.
From the way we spent the last hours in my bed, talking and dozing. The way he told me about his family and his hometown and how his brother gave him the tiny scar on his eyebrow. How he listened to stories of Bree and all her favorite things.
But we didn't talk about Peter.
And now, as I sit outside in the cool breeze of the morning, I'm fine with that. Sometimes I like to think that in moments like these, the quiet ones when Bree is still asleep and my work phone isn't buzzing, I can reflect about my life and my choices knowing he can hear them as well.
I've never hidden anything from Peter, and I don't stop now. I find myself talking to him as I sip my coffee, thoughts of Jasper and last night rolling through my head, and instead of feeling that overwhelming sense of guilt that I had brought with me when I first arrived on the island, I feel light and carefree. Validated. Seen.
"Please don't haunt him," I beg out loud to Peter, laughing at the thought. "I know you're busy but, can you give me a sign when you can? That I'm allowed to love you and enjoy him at the same time?"
My sign comes a few minutes later in the form of Bella Swan.
Peter had always gotten a chuckle out of Bella's tendencies to dig herself into her own self-imposed holes, and by the looks of it, as she makes her way back home from what looks to be an early morning run on the beach, she has dug herself a good one.
Usually the holes she digs aren't necessarily as deep as she makes them out to be.
Typically, it takes Rose or myself to pull her out of it, which is what Peter had always enjoyed.
"Thanks, babe," I laugh at the sky with a shake of my head, getting up to bring Bella her own cup of coffee so it's warm and ready for her when she's finished.
A few minutes later, Bella joins me on the porch, bringing her own storm cloud of worries. I remind her of facts she tends to forget when she's lost in her own head, knowing she will sort them all out in her own time the way she always does.
I never worry about her; she may take the scenic route, but she always finds her way to whatever hemisphere she belongs to at the end of the day.
I wonder if we all do.
Go on little detours that may seem unfamiliar, knowing that it may take you off course for a little while, only to ultimately place you exactly where you're supposed to be by the time the journey is done.
"Where'd you go?" Jasper asks me sleepily, his head rising slowly from his pillow when I crawl back into bed a little later. Just like yesterday morning, I hand him his cup of coffee and he sits up with a small smile, taking the cup and moving over to make room for me next to him.
I bring my coffee to my lips, hiding my smile behind the oversized mug. "Just took a little detour."
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